


these hands had to let it go free

by catteo



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, I don't even know any more, is it crack?, is it just an excuse for smut?, sorry world
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-24
Updated: 2015-03-24
Packaged: 2018-03-19 10:15:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3606426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catteo/pseuds/catteo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grant and Kara are living the high life. Doing whatever it is that ex-SHIELD agents do when they don't work for SHIELD any more. Kara propositions Ward, nobody really knows where they stand. Skye's having a total meltdown and Thomas Andrew Ward is in a bar getting drunk. This is a hot mess. I am sorry.</p><p>ETA: Having been advised that I am possibly too sneaky for my own good and after traumatizing several of my friends, I feel that an additional comment is needed. The title is taken from the ever flawless TSwizz and the clues that you require are ALL RIGHT THERE. I am SkyeWard trash, Kara and Ward BFFs for ever and Kara is totally banging Ward's little brother in pretty much everything I write. DO NOT FEAR, FRIENDS, NOTHING IS EVER QUITE AS SIMPLE AS IT SEEMS.</p>
            </blockquote>





	these hands had to let it go free

**Author's Note:**

> This started life as a 'quick little fic' to calm people down after last week's fandom explosion. 10,000 words and a whole lot of smut later, here we are. Nobody is surprised.
> 
> I am also 99.9% sure that this will calm nobody down. Oops.

Ward pulls his shirt off in one swift motion, trying to ignore the burn in his side and the way that the damp cloth sticks to his body. He holds the garment out in front of him for a brief moment, before deciding that it’s completely beyond salvaging, balling it up and slinging it into the trashcan that sits in the corner of the room. Despite the fact that his wardrobe is entirely monochrome, he’s finding that the life of a rogue agent requires significantly more outfit changes than when he lived in the robust tac-gear provided by SHIELD.

 

 

Ward drags his thoughts back from the edge of that dangerous territory, absentmindedly running his fingers across the scars that punctuate the otherwise smooth skin of his right side. A sudden flash of pain sparks across his chest, and he looks down to see fresh blood on his hand. His torso is a messy patchwork of crimson, shot through with rivers of flaking black, dried blood pulling at his skin as he moves. He grabs a towel, wets it in the sink, and busies himself with getting the worst of the carnage off his skin. He finally exposes a shallow gash, about two inches long, running just under his ribs.

 

 

For a moment Ward’s eyes slide closed as he hears the echoes of familiar voices.

 

 

_no wonder you’re pissed_

 

_you’ve managed to rip all your stitches_

 

_you really don’t believe in duck and cover do you?_

 

 

He somehow pulls in a shuddering breath and exhales slowly to the count of five. By the time he opens his eyes, his past is firmly back where it belongs, locked up where it can’t distract him; where it can’t rip open all his scars and make him bleed anew. If his fingers shake slightly as he pinches the edges of the wound together, sticks neat strips of plaster tight across the cut, it’s nothing more than the after-effects of a fading adrenaline buzz. He just needs to eat something.

 

 

“Well hey there soldier, what’s taking you so long?”

 

 

Ward feels every muscle in his body go completely rigid as _her_ voice drifts across his skin. This can’t be happening. She can’t be here.

 

 

“Ah, we’re doing strong and slient today, are we?” There’s a low chuckle behind him, the sound growing steadily closer, skittering up his spine. “I like it.”

 

 

Ward’s brain finally manages to process what’s going on and, suddenly, he’s furious.

 

 

“What the hell are you doing, Kara?” He spins around to face her and, even though he knows by now exactly what he’s going to see, it still takes his breath away. Skye’s face stares back at him, eyes wide with mock innocence, just the barest hint of a smile on her lips. Kara’s somehow even managed to pick up on Skye’s nervous habits, two fingers beating a gentle rhythm on her denim-clad thigh. His own heartbeat hammers in his ears, white noise that batters at his shaky defences. He finally manages to get enough air past the lump in his throat to allow him to continue. “If this is supposed to be a joke it’s basically the opposite of funny.”

 

 

“Not a joke.” She tilts her head at him. “Just figured it was about time we had some fun, you and me. Life can’t all be about wrapping up the morally dubious for Coulson and trying to recapture all the folks you set loose whilst you were doing Hydra’s dirty work. You know what they say about all work and no play…” One corner of her mouth hitches in a sly smile and she steps closer, extending her hand towards him. Ward _knows_ that this is Kara, that Skye’s almost certainly never going to willingly approch him like this again, but his body doesn’t quite believe what his brain is telling it. He knows he should walk away but he can’t seem to move out of her reach. She trails a finger up his forearm and looks up at him through lowered lashes. “… Makes Grant boring.”

 

 

He’s not sure if it’s the fact that Kara never uses his given name, or that her touch on his skin breaks whatever spell he’s under, but he finally manages to step away from her. Ward’s seriously regretting his earlier decision to throw his shirt away and, for a man who knows fifteen different ways to kill with his bare hands, he’s feeling ridiculously vulnerable. She steps forwards, closing the distance between them once again, but this time he’s ready for her, catches her hand before she has a chance to touch him and break his already tenuous grip on reality.

 

 

“I thought we’d dealt with this months ago, Kara. You’ve got your memories back now. We got the mask off. Why the hell are you wearing _her_ face when you could have your own?”

 

 

“What’s the matter?” The familiar crease appears between her brows as she gives him a puzzled look. “Can’t even say her name? That’s pretty weak of you… Grant.”

 

 

“Stop it. I know what you’re trying to do and it’s not going to work.” He doesn’t know what’s wrong with him. What’s wrong with _her_. Familiar exasperation floods his body, a sensation that he’ll never associate with anyone but Skye, his blood singing as it recognizes another of the challenges that she’s constantly throwing at him. His body is a battlefield, his tarnished soul the prize, and he has no idea if he’s strong enough to make the right choice for both of them. Almost everything he wants is standing barely more than arms length away. All Ward needs to do is take a single step forwards. He knows that it’s only ever going to be a lie, but the truth that he so desperately wants is so far out of his reach that she may as well be on another planet. “This isn’t what I want.” He can hear the surrender in his own voice as he says it.

 

 

“Well, like you said, I’m all _me_ now. I make my own decisions. I want you, but you want her. This seems like a win-win. Don’t confuse it with love, because that’s really not what I need from you. Think of it as just a biological imperative.” The way that she crosses her arms and arches an eyebrow at him is so familiar that it makes his chest ache.

 

 

“But you’re not her.” He’s not sure which of them he’s trying to convince any more.

 

 

“But you won’t do it if I’m _me_.” Her logic is flawless and he can see that she knows it. “Would it help if I really get into it? Say something like _Hail Hydra_?” Her expression turns suddenly vicious, her tone scathing. Ward can almost feel the hurt coming off her in waves. He can’t ever seem to find the right words to make her believe that it wasn’t all a lie. That everything important was true. _Is_ true. “Should I tell you that I forgive you? That I understand?” Her attitude changes again, and he’s off balance, wrong-footeded and breathless. He can almost hear the sound of cotton on leather, echoing in the cargo bay, as she grins at him. “Hey, Ward, you’ve seriously got to stop getting yourself injured just so you can strip in front of me. I mean, don’t get me wrong, you’re really nice to look at, like, _really_ , but one of these days somebody might actually hit you somewhere important.”

 

 

“Shut up, Skye.” He knows that it’s a mistake the second her name leaves his mouth. He’s been keeping her there, safe inside, where neither of them can break the other, but now he’s set her free and he doesn’t know if he’ll ever get her back. There’s a split-second where her face shows genuine shock, and it’s almost enough. It nearly convinces him that Kara never meant things to go this far. That she’ll walk away, and he’ll be able to start rebuilding his defenses, to try and forget that it’s been ten months since anyone touched his skin as though he was worth saving. She recovers quickly, though, her features smoothing into a bright challenge.

 

 

“Isn’t this everything you’ve ever dreamed of?” She takes a step closer as she says it, and he can feel the heat of her body warming the air between them. “I want this.” He’s sure that she can see the conflict written in every line of his body. She drifts a hand up his stomach, skipping across ridges of muscle, before she leans closer. “Think of it as the ultimate role play. It’ll be fun.” She murmurs it as though it’s a secret, her hot breath setting his skin alight, and Ward knows that he’s never going to be able to walk away now. There’s a moment where he tries to rationalize what he’s about to do, tries to tell himself that they’re both adults, more than able to distinguish between fiction and reality, but then she lifts her face to his and smiles. It’s pure Skye, hope and laughter almost hiding the faint shadows of sorrow and, overlying everything else, is something that he never thought he’d see in her eyes again. Trust.

 

 

Ward can’t speak, can hardly draw breath past the ache in his chest, but he somehow manages to give her a shaky smile, hoping that she knows that he’ll never be able to repay this. Since he’s going to burn anyway he’s determined that he’s going to show Kara how much this means to him.

 

 

“Kara, are you…” He doesn’t get any further than that before she runs her thumb across his bottom lip, shaking her head slightly.

 

 

“Who am I?” There’s a hint of exasperation on her face, achingly familiar, and his body is practically screaming the answer at him. Ward opens his mouth, but it’s as though she knows that he’s about say the same name again, and she grips his chin in her hand, forces him to look directly at her. He looks everywhere for the cracks that will show him where the lie ends, but all he sees is unblemished skin and honesty.

 

 

“Skye.” As he says it she slides her hand around to the back of his neck, pulling herself onto her toes, and pressing her mouth to his. He knows that it can’t be the same, that it shouldn’t feel exactly the same, but everything is dizzyingly familiar. It’s as though the months between scatter like dust beneath his feet, and he’s still the man Skye thought he was. Still the man he’s trying to hard to become.

 

 

Her lips are soft, and she starts slow, just the barest hint of pressure on his lower lip. His eyes drift closed and sense memory fills in the blanks, his hands sliding around her waist as though they never left, the smell of her, coconut and spice, filling the air. Her fingers slip around the back of his neck, nails scraping against stubble, as he pulls her up against him. Nothing is different. Electricty still sparks under his skin at every point that their skin touches. She makes him feel as though his blood is made of stardust and that, together, they could become anything. Her tongue slides against his and he still feels as though the world is shaking, coming apart underneath his feet.

 

 

She moans into his mouth, a hot, breathy gasp, that makes his cock twitch in anticipation. He slides his hands up her sides, thumbs brushing across the swell of her breasts, before twining his fingers through her hair. He gasps as she sucks hard on his bottom lip, biting down firmly before she pulls away. She’s rougher than she should be, but it’s better this way. A sudden reminder that none of this is anything like before, no matter how much he might wish that it was.

 

 

In that moment he thinks that he might not be too far gone. That he might be able to stop this before he goes any further. But he opens his eyes to see Skye staring up at him, pupils blown to black, eyes heavy-lidded with desire, and he knows that they’ve both gone to far to back out now. They stand for a moment, neither of them making a move, and he can see her pulse hammering in her neck, the rapid rise and fall of her breathing. He recognizes the moment that she makes a decision. She presses a quick kiss to his collarbone and smiles up at him.

 

 

“Don’t move.” She’s spinning out of his grasp, leaving nothing but empty air and it’s as though he’s losing her all over again. He forces himself to stand motionless, rewarded by a delighted smile as she looks back over her shoulder. For a moment he’s not sure what she’s doing, but she reaches the door and the room suddenly goes dark.

 

 

He’s disoriented for a moment, his eyes taking long moments to adjust to the gloom, the only light coming from where the door stands ajar. It’s barely enough to make out anything but the shape of her body, moving back towards him, but then her hands are back on his skin, drifting up his chest, and slowly the world begins to take shape again. He tells himself that this is nothing but a lie, that this isn’t really Skye, but it's a lie he wants to believe so much. It’s not as if Skye would ever kiss him like this now, like she means it, knowing who he really is. She would never moan into his mouth and arch her body against him like she needs him.

 

 

He reaches for the buttons of her shirt, but she pulls his hands back to her waist before leaning forwards and raking her nails down his stomach. She follows with her tongue, gentle pressure soothing the sting, and cool air trailing behind the warmth of her breath. The juxtaposition makes his head spin, and it’s not until he feels her fingers at his waist that he comes to his senses. He reaches for her shirt again, but this time she laughs. The sound dances across his skin and into his bones, a memory bursting to life across his body. He’s not sure he ever really forgot.

 

 

“Really? Of all the items of clothing you could remove, you’re going for my shirt? I mean, I know you’re a boob guy, but I expected a little more imagination.” Skye’s voice teases him, and he acts on pure instinct, walking backwards and pulling her along with him, his fingers hooked through the belt-loops of her jeans. Three steps, and his back hits concrete, just as he knew it would. She’s still laughing as he bends his mouth to her neck and sucks, graitified when her laughter breaks off in a gasp. She arches her body against him, hands rough on already bruised skin. It feels as though he’s breaking apart under her, and he never wants it to stop. He lifts his mouth, kisses a gentle path up her neck until he reaches the corner of her mouth. She hums, a satisfied sigh that he’s certain he’s heard before, but before he lets himself fall into that trap he spins her around, pinning her body between his and the wall.

 

 

“Imaginative enough for you?” His voice is low, almost unrecognizable, as he murmurs the words beside her ear.

 

 

“A definite improvement.” He doesn’t give her the chance to say anything else, claims her mouth with his once again, as he busies his fingers at her waist, deftly unfastening her jeans and slipping them down her hips. She pulls away from him with a gasp as he slides a knuckle against the damp cotton between her legs and he stills instantly, suddenly aware of their respective positions. He can hear the moment that she takes a deep breath and swallows, feels her head drop forward against his shoulder as she lets out a steadying breath. He counts six long heartbeats before he feels a huff of warm air on his chest. “Don’t stop now, soldier, you were just getting to the good stuff.” He’s on his knees at her feet before he even registers that he’s moving.

 

 

The scent of her arousal is intoxicating, the fact that he can barely see anything in the dim half-light only serving to heighten his other senses. Her skin is soft, and the way that she groans as he slides callused palms down her legs, dragging her jeans as he goes, makes his head spin. He can’t make sense of any of this, so he simply stops trying, surrendering any idea he may have had of being in control, wondering if maybe that was her intention all along. He kisses his way back up her inner thigh, his stubble scratching gently along sensitive flesh before he reaches her panties. He pauses for a second, considering his next move, and she rewards him by gritting his name out in dissatisfied tones. His blood fizzes; he’s drunk on the knowledge that she wants him, and he muffles a soft laugh against her skin.

 

 

He closes his eyes, barely noticing the difference with just the two of them, alone in the dark, and focuses on the sound of her breathing, as rapid as his own. He drifts his fingers over her hips, satisfied when her breath catches as he hooks his fingers into the waistband of her underwear. He leans forward and runs his tongue over the fabric that covers her cunt, his first taste of her muted by the fabric between them. It’s not enough; it’s never going to be enough. Skye’s voice moans his name, fingers sliding through his hair, his eyes snapping open as she pulls his face more firmly against her, and he moves, stripping her underwear down to join her jeans at her ankles in one smooth motion.

 

 

Ward presses a gentle kiss at the crease of her thigh before gripping one of her ankles, pulling her leg free of her clothes, and hooking her knee over his shoulder. He does almost everything by touch, his fingers slipping between her slick folds, spreading her apart as he breathes her in. He dips his head and finally tastes her, salt-sweet and addictive. She’s gratifyingly wet, eager as she cants her hips to give his mouth better access, and he has to consicously stop himself from rubbing up against her and giving in to his own want. His cock aches uncomfortably, but he pushes his own desire firmly to the back of his mind, some dim thought that it could, in a strange way, repay Kara for showing him that he still knows how to _feel_.

 

Ward slides one hand up the slight swell of her stomach, and realizes that Kara, too, has her fair share of scars. He can feel them under his fingers as slight ridges that mar skin that otherwise feels like silk beneath his touch. Her hands fist tightly in his hair, drawing his focus back to where she wants him, and she pulls him closer. She grinds her hips against his face, breathless moans escaping her every now and again. Her voice echoes in the room as he pushes his tongue up into her slick cunt, his thumb circling her clit. His dick twitches, rock hard, as she murmurs his name. It’s something straight out of his wildest dreams and he smothers the tiny voice in his head that tries to tell him that this is nothing but another fantasy.

 

He slides two fingers into her, slipping easily into wet heat, curling them up and forwards as his mouth moves up to suck gently on her clit. The effects of his actions are electric, her spine bowing as she keens his name, thighs squeezing tighter around his head, and he fights to maintain his own control. Time ceases to have any meaning for him. He can’t focus on anything but her, and the way she writhes under his tongue, a soft jumble of words spilling from her lips. He can hear Skye’s voice saying his name over and over, _Grant, Grant, Grant_ , as though he belongs with her. He never wants her to stop.

 

He catalogs every sound she makes, even though he knows this is barely more than a dream, and files them away for later. Her half-swallowed sighs and breathy moans get louder as he pushes her closer to the edge. He’s got one hand splayed across her belly, pinning her against the wall, and he can feel her straining underneath him, muscles clenching rhythmically with every rapid flick of his tongue.

 

“Fuck, yes. Like that.” Skye chokes the words out between gasps. His face is wet with her, his fingers slipping easily against slick flesh, and he pushes harder. Faster. He scrapes his teeth against her clit, struggling to keep her still as she strains against him, trying to fuck his mouth as he eats her out. He wants nothing more than to make her fall apart underneath him, to feel the instant that she tumbles over the edge. He knows that he’s being selfish, that he should have said no before she pushed it this far. The guilt just makes him more focused. He can tell that she’s close, small moans of pleasure brushing against his skin as he twists his fingers inside her.

 

Ward flattens his tongue firmly against her tender flesh, and feels her muscles fluttering against his fingers. She comes with his name on her lips and his mouth on her skin, sucking her clit as she bucks up against him. He’s practically fucking her leg, and he’d almost be embarrassed if it wasn't dark enough that neither of them can really see. He focuses on keeping his hips still, concentrating on the sound of her breathing, his own pulse racing in his ears. He feels her stomach clench under his hand and hears a sudden hiccup, quickly smothered, only to be followed by another. Louder this time.

 

Ward thinks that he’s never hated himself more than he does in this moment, as he realizes that he’s listening to her cry. “Kara?” He says it tentatively, breaking the spell that’s lulled him into believing that any of this could ever be okay.

 

 

“Get off me.” He can hear the tears in her voice, the sorrow that dances in every syllable. He feels the loss like a knife in his heart as she lifts her leg from his shoulder, and he sits back on his heels, pushing himself far enough away that she can reach down and pull her clothes back on. He pretends that he doesn’t know what this means, as though not facing his mistakes has ever made any of them vanish, and scrubs a hand across his eyes.

 

 

“I’m sorry.” He turns towards the sound of her footsteps, only to see her silhouette vanishing through the door before it slides quietly closed. He realizes he’s doing nothing more than speaking to his ghosts.

 

 

Ward almost allows himself to believe that it was just a dream, but he can still taste her on his lips, feel the proof on his chin, and he, of all people, knows that you can’t escape your mistakes. It’s hours before he finds the strength to move. He doesn’t sleep.

 

 

*

 

 

The next morning Kara’s thankfully wearing her own face and clothes, and barely bats an eyelid when he appears in the kitchen. His skin is still pink from trying to scrub himself clean of everything he wishes he hadn’t done. His raw wounds burn as the cotton of his shirt rubs against them, but the reminder of his misdeeds doesn’t make him feel any better. He pours himself a coffee and listens to her hum as she rummages in the cupboards. It’s like any other morning for the last six months, and he doesn’t know how she’s managing to act as though nothing has changed. The silence stretches out between them before he finally gathers the courage to speak.

 

 

“I’m sorry about last night, Kara.” His voice sounds rough in his own ears, exhaustion bleeding into every word. “We shouldn't have done that. _I_ shouldn't have done that.” He’s not sure what he expected to hear, but the sound of Kara’s laugh was the last thing he imagined. He looks at her with genuine surprise.

 

 

“I don’t really think that we had a choice, do you?” Kara’s statemtent is delivered in blunt tones and she’s looking at him as though he’s lost his mind. Ward presses his fingers to the cut under his ribs, the jolt of pain reassuring him that he’s definitely not dreaming. Kara tilts her head and looks at him with concern on her face. “Ward, you bled all over the upholstery; we had to clean the scene. It’s hardly the first time we’ve set fire to a getaway car.”

 

 

It’s not as though he thought that this was going to be easy, but he wasn’t really counting on Kara being willfuly ignorant. He steadies himself with a hand on the counter and tries again.

 

 

“No, Kara, that’s not what I’m talking about.” He gestures vaguely in her direction, but she just shrugs as though she still has no idea what he’s trying to say. “I mean, you know…” Ward’s praying that she’s not actually going to make him say it, but Kara just shakes her head at him. She looks totally confused and he’s beginning to think that she’s a much better actress than he ever gave her credit for. As though last night hasn’t proven that beyond a shadow of a doubt. “The thing where I made you come with my mouth?” Apparently all it takes for him to start talking like a grown man is a little outrage.

 

 

“What now?” Kara looks totally blank and Ward’s beginning to wonder what special hell he’s found himself in this morning.

 

 

“I’m sorry I let things get out of hand.” He says the words so quickly that they slur together, but at least it’s out there. He’s managed to get them both on the same page at least.

 

 

 

“Oh, I get it.” Understanding suddenly dawns on Kara’s face, a sly smile spreading across her features. “Funny guy this morning.” She takes a sip of her coffee and Ward is genuinely mystified. “Is this going to be a recurring theme? You mocking me about all the sex we didn't have, because you turned me down. Like, three months ago? Don’t flatter yourself, Romeo, I’ve moved on.” She shakes her head and reaches past him for the cereal. “You really should too. I mean, I know I’m a catch…”

 

 

“Kara, stop it, this isn’t a joke. We need to talk about it. I really am sorry that I took advantage of you last night.” Ward leaves out the part where it’s the first time he’s felt anything like a real connection to another human being in months. Some things don’t need to be discussed in the cold light of day. It would be even weirder if he thanked her.

 

 

“You really need to get out more, Ward. I think you’re going stir crazy. Get a hobby that doesn’t involve guns and head-to-toe black. Join community theatre or something. You’ve clearly got an unrealized flare for comedy.” She rolls her eyes at him. There’s a thought taking shape in Ward’s mind, slowly rolling through the haze of confusion.

 

 

“But…” He looks down at his forearm, four bruises standing out in stark relief on his skin. Proof that it wasn’t just a dream. Or a nightmare. Or wishful thinking. “Last night…” He trails off as Kara interrupts.

 

 

“Look, I’m sorry I’ve got something resembling a social life. But, you know, _I_ make that happen, Ward.” She shakes a mountain of cereal into her bowl, rainsing her voice so that he can her her. “Since we’re oversharing this morning, I should really tell you about this great guy that took me home. Thomas. Or Andrew. Thomas Andrew, maybe?” Kara shakes her head, clearly frustrated that it’s escaping her. Ward tries to keep his expression completely blank as the familiar name hits him like a blow to the gut. Kara breezes on, oblivious. “Anyway, that’s irrelevant. Fact is that his beard is better than yours, and it was definitely between my legs last night. So I should know. Make of that what you will.” Kara takes a giant mouthful of cereal and grins broadly at him.

 

 

“But you walked into the house right after I did, wearing Skye's face...” His mouth goes dry and his stomach bottoms out as the realization that’s been whispering at the edges of his mind screams into focus. Kara’s voice sounds as though it’s coming from a million miles away.

 

 

“Look, I did what you said and got myself a plausible alibi. I went to a bar and then I went and had sex with a really hot guy. I even have his number.” She shifts in her seat and pulls a napkin out of her back pocket and waves it triumphantly in his face. “I don't know what drugs you took, or who you thought you were fucking that looked exactly like Skye, but I can assure you that it was not me.” She murmurs something distincly uncomplementary about Grant’s idea of a joke and goes back to flicking through the paper.

 

“Skye.” He breathes her name in understanding.

 

 

“Still Kara.” Kara waves her spoon at him. “Go and get some sleep. You look like shit. Maybe stay in your room for the rest of the day. I don’t want to catch whatever it is that you’ve got. Next thing, you’ll try to convince me that Thomas is your brother or something.” Kara’s laughter follows him down the hallway. Ward thinks that he might be about to throw up.

 

 

*

 

 

It doesn’t actually take him that long to calm down. There’s a period of about twenty minutes where he considers calling Skye and asking her what the hell she’s doing. He wonders if she’d be proud that he’s worked out how to break her encryption by tracing the little flourishes she leaves in her coding. He knows where she is. He’s known for months. He could just throw caution to the wind and confront her.

 

 

Then it hits him that she knows where he is too. That she walked into his safe house as though it was nothing, and convinced him that she was Kara. Or that she was Kara being Skye. It makes his head spin. His emotions are a mess. He’s furious that she lied to him, made him think that she was someone else, but he has to admit that there’s some sort of poetic justice to it all. It’s not as though he didn’t do the same to her. Some things make a lot more sense -- the part where she broke down and ran away -- but the rest of it makes no sense at all. He can’t understand why, after she made her feelings so clear, she’d be doing this to herself. He wonders what the hell is happening to her that means she’d view him, of all people, as a safe place. No matter how many times he told her that he was, he never thought she’d actually start to believe it. Not after everything.

 

 

It’s some small consolation that at least he made sure she had a good time.

 

 

Ward, in an uncharacteristic move, sleeps for most of the day. For the first time in as long as he can remember he’s not haunted by missed opportunities and wrong decisions. There’s a note from Kara on the table advising him that she and Thomas are ‘probably going to fuck again’. He’ll deal with that another day. He wishes that he could un-see the information as he screws up the piece of paper and throws it into the trash. He lets out a satisfied grunt as he makes the shot.

 

 

“That hardly seems like cause for celebration. Thought you could shoot the legs off a flea at two-hundred yards?” Skye’s voice wraps around him like an embrace. He’s grateful that he’s got his back to her as he feels a grin tugging at his lips. It takes him a moment to pull his features into studied indifference as he turns around.

 

 

“Three-hundred, actually. With a crosswind. Get your facts straight.” He doesn’t know how he didn’t see it last night. The brittle edges on her smile and the hunted look in her eyes. He assumes that it’s because it didn’t even occur to him to look. “You left in a hurry last night.” He leaves the words hanging. Lets her do with them what she will.

 

 

“Well, you were something of a disappointment if I’m honest.” He can see the lie written on her skin. He _knows_ this girl. The bold façade that hides a core of steel. He’s never been able to resist her.

 

 

“You back to give me another shot?” He doesn’t wait for her rebuttal. “Honestly, Kara, we could have done something about it this morning. I don’t know why you think you need to be her for this to work.” He sees Skye’s jaw clench as the blow hits. He’s more than a little impressed that it’s her only tell.

 

 

“It’s better this way, trust me.” She steps towards him and he takes a step back, maintaining the distance between them.

 

 

“Why’s that, Kara?” It feels more than a little forced, throwing her name into every other sentence, but some spiteful part of him enjoys the way her eyes narrow when he does.

 

 

“Separation of church and state.” She shrugs a shoulder at him.

 

 

“What does that even mean?” He can hear the exasperation bleeding into his voice. It strikes him that there’s a dark humour in how quickly they settle back into this routine. Skye’s making no sense, and she’s as frustrating as hell. But she’s _here_. He doesn’t really care about the rest of it.

 

 

“How should I know? Sounds impressive though. It’s probably in one of your dumb books.” She’s slipping and she doesn’t even realize.

 

 

“My books aren’t dumb, Kara. They’re full of information that’s saved our lives on more than one occasion. Remember Peru?” He crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow at her. He’s genuinely interested to see how far she’s going to take this. How desperate she is to maintain her cover.

 

 

“Why are you even still talking? It’s a total waste of all the trouble I’ve gone to.” She doesn’t even bat an eyelid as she smoothly changes the subject, gesturing at her face as she does. He’s impressed, and he tries to suppress the surge of pride that swells in his chest.

 

 

“You’re the boss.” This time he doesn’t bother trying to hide the smirk that spreads across his face. He’s rewarded with a triumphant nod.

 

 

“ _Finally_ , he gets it. You coming, solider?” She throws the words over her shoulder as she turns and strides towards the door. He considers biting back the obvious joke, but realizes that she’s not expecting him to be the old Grant Ward any more. She wouldn’t be here if that were what she wanted.

 

 

“Hopefully.”

 

 

“Holy no way, you did _not_ just say that?” She turns to face him, her face bright with humour, laughter in her voice. He can barely breathe at the sight, but somehow manages to nonchalantly shrug his shoulder at her with a self-deprecating look on his face.

 

 

“Hey, Skye, it’s only the truth.” He doesn’t mean to do it. It’s a slip of the tongue. He’s gotten careless after being his own man for all this time.

 

 

“Whatever, idiot. Now let’s take this somewhere a little more comfortable, shall we?” She’s half way down the corridor before it occurs to him that he should probably be concerned that she seems to know the layout of his safe house as well as if she lived here. He wonders just how long she’s been planning this. What else she knows. She pauses outside his room, fingers on the doorhandle, and indicates that he’s taking longer than she’d like. He picks up the pace, walks through the door mere moments after her, only to find the room empty.

 

 

He’s not altogether surprised when the door slams shut behind him, a low chuckle telling him that this is exactly what Skye had in mind. He turns to find her leaning against the door, one knee bent up so she can prop her foot against it. Her pose is almost exactly as it would have been last night, only this time all the lights are on and, unfortunately, they’re both still fully clothed. He licks his lips as though he might still be able to taste her there.

 

 

“New rules.” She looks up at him as though she’s expecting him to object.

 

 

“Didn’t know there were old rules.” Ward would hate to let her down.

 

 

“Wow, Ward, look at you with a sense of humor. Who’d have thought?” She’s bolder tonight. Careless. It’s as though, having gotten away with it once, she thinks that she’s invincible. He’s relieved to see that some things never change. “New rules are that you stop trying to turn this into something that it’s not. No worshipping me with your tongue, or whatever the hell that was supposed to be last night.” She narrows her eyes at him, and there’s a moment where he thinks that she’s figuring out that he knows. Suddenly the challenging smile is back on her face. “Deal?”

 

 

“That why you ran last night, Kara?” He knows that he shouldn’t have said it almost as soon as the words leave his mouth.

 

 

“Second rule: no talking about what happened the last time.” Her voice shakes a little on the last word. “Or what’s going to happen the next time.” Her voice is steady again by the end. It takes him a moment to register the implications behind her words. That there’s a future here if he doesn’t screw it up. “Third rule…”

 

 

“Jesus, you’ve got a lot of rules.” He holds his hands up in mock surrender as she scowls at him,

 

 

“Third rule: both parties leave satisfied. Deal?” She holds a hand out towards him, clearly expecting him to shake on it. Ward decides that this is probably the most bizarre foreplay he’s ever encountered. His hand is halfway to hers before he hesitates.

 

 

“Honestly, I have no idea how you expect me to make good on the third rule within the confines of the first.” He pretends to be giving it some serious thought.

 

 

“Use your imagination. It’s a challenge. Challenges are good for you, Ward.” Her grip is firm as their hands meet. Ward uses the opportunity to pull her up against him, sliding his arms around her to prevent her backing away.

 

 

“So basically you’re telling me that you just want to fuck. Nothing more.” He has no intention of following any of her rules, but Skye doesn’t need to know that right now.

 

 

“Give the man a medal.” Skye grips the hem of his T-shirt and starts pulling. He doesn’t even pause, just releases his grip on her and allows her to strip his top and fling it blindly to one side. She hums her satisfaction as she traces a finger along the length of his torso. He grabs her hand just as she’s about to slip her fingers under the waist of his jeans, using the moment when she looks up at him as an excuse to slide his mouth over hers. Without the moments of self-loathing that peppered their encounter a bare twenty-four hours ago, Ward just lets go. Allows everything he’s been holding back bleed into every action. He feels like he can breathe for the first time in months.

 

 

He feels Skye gasp, dragging the air from his lungs, her lips parting eagerly under his. The taste of her is comfortingly familiar and he doesn’t know how he could ever have believed that she was someone else. He feels her arms looping around his neck, pulling him closer, and he’s got his hands under her ass, boosting her up so she can wrap her legs around his hips. He walks backwards until the backs of his legs hit the bed, pulling Skye down on top of him as he sits. His hands grip her hips, pulling her more firmly onto his lap, and his teeth scrape lightly along her collarbone. He’s more than half-hard already, and every time Skye moves, the sensation of friction dragging across his cock races, like lightning, up his spine.

 

 

Skye’s fingers are under his jaw, lifting his face to hers, and she gives him a wide smile before scooting backwards along his thighs. He tries not to moan at the loss of heat, but he’s fairly certain, from the giggle he hears, that he’s less than successful. Skye licks a path down his neck, a blazing trail like fire under his skin. He half expects to see sparks flying in the air between them as heat builds in his stomach. Skye flattens her tongue, dragging it across his nipple, capturing it between her teeth and giving a sharp tug. It’s just the right side of painful, a jolt of pleasure flashing through his chest as she replaces her mouth with her hand, sliding her palm over his heart. He tries not to let his mind run away with the implications behind her actions, and somehow manages to get it together long enough to realize that she’s still fully clothed whilst he’s half naked, her hands nimbly working at the fly of his jeans.

 

 

Ward reaches up to undo her shirt, but she bats his fingers away with one hand, continues unpopping the buttons of his fly with the other. He’s actually kind of impressed at both her dexterity and ability to multitask. He fails completely in trying not to think about the multitude of other ways she could put her skills to use. He grabs a handful of her shirt in lieu of undoing it, pulling her back against him for a bruising kiss. She gives as good as she gets, licking up into his mouth and biting down on his lower lip. He growls into her mouth and she does nothing more than settle more comfortably into his lap. He feels her hand sliding across his cock, nothing between their skin but the cotton of his boxer briefs, and he tears his mouth from hers, gasping for air.

 

 

He slides hand down her neck, slipping his fingers under the strap of her bra until he feels the swell of her breast. He scratches a blunt fingernail across her nipple and Skye, almost involuntarily, grinds down into his lap. He leans forwards, places a trail of light kisses along her breastbone, flicking open a single button as he goes. Skye’s clearly not as lost in the moment as he thinks, though, pulling away from him almost as soon as he starts stripping her of her clothes. She braces herself against him, palms against his chest, and pushes herself to standing.

 

 

“It’s way too bright in here, don’t you think?” Her smile is brittle, a stark contrast to her flushed cheeks and swollen lips. Her hair’s a mess, wild and untamed, and she’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

 

 

“I kind of like being able to see you.” Ward chooses his words carefully. Doesn’t want to remind her that she’s supposed to be somebody else.

 

 

“Not me.” She says it so quietly that he almost doesn’t hear her. He wonders how much longer she plans to put them both through this before she comes clean. He’s not sure he can handle it much longer.

 

 

“If you turn the lights off, how am I going to see to find condoms? Everything else requires a violation of your first rule. The way I see it, lights need to stay on.” He’s pretty proud of himself for that one. He’s at a distinct disadvantage, topless, fly undone, cock straining against his underwear, but he’s still working the angles. His triumph doesn’t last long.

 

 

“Well I came prepared. Didn’t want to leave anything to chance.” Skye reaches into her back pocket and produces a foil wrapper that she brandishes in his direction.

 

 

“That’s going to be hard to find when your jeans are on the other side of the room.”

 

 

“I’ll take my chances.” She throws the condom onto the bed as she turns around and heads for the door. Ward’s on his feet in seconds, his longer stride allowing him to get in front of her, blocking her path before she’s even taken three steps away from him.

 

 

“What are you doing?” He can hear the anxiety lacing her voice, and he’s almost sorry for what he’s about to do. He’d rather know though.

 

 

“Is this really what you want, Skye? Like this?” He’s trying to keep his hands to himself, but there are ghosts in her fragile smile, and he wants nothing more than to wrap his arms around her and never let her go.

 

 

“Excuse me? Like what?” Her tone is a curious mix of fear and challenge. As though she hadn’t even considered what she’d do if he worked it out. He’s not sure whether he should be annoyed or not.

 

 

“Like I’m supposed to pretend that I don’t know it’s really you.” His words lie heavy in the air between them. It feels as though he’s drowning in the weight of them.

 

 

“What the hell are you talking about?” He can still see the war she’s waging with herself. A fight or flight response that could go either way. He prays that this isn’t the second-worst miscalculation he’s ever made as he barrels on.

 

 

“Tell me that the reason you want the lights off and your top to stay on isn’t because I’m going to see every mistake I ever made carved on your skin.” His voice is quiet and he hopes that she can hear the apology he’s never quite managed to say aloud.

 

 

Skye’s completely silent. She stares up at him, eyes huge, her lower lip trembling slightly as he stares at her. He drinks her in, memorizes every inch of her skin before she leaves him for the last time. He can almost feel himself beginning to come apart, vibrations that skitter along the surface of his skin and dance along his bones. He sees her take a deep breath, before she exhales to the count of five. He marks it off, their shared past measure in heartbeats, before she pulls herself together.

 

 

“Skye?” He can hear the hope in his voice, dangerously close to a weakness.

 

She stares up at him, her eyes never leaving his, as her fingers reach for the buttons of her shirt. Out of the corner of his eye he can see her hands trembling slightly as she slowly undoes her top. He has no idea what she’s thinking, her eyes dark and her face as composed as a statue whilst her fingers move downwards. His mouth goes completely dry as Skye finally drops her hands to her sides. Her shirt gapes open by a bare inch, showing the black lace of her bra and a long strip of smooth skin.

 

 

“Why would Skye be here?” She sounds genuinely curious and, for a horrifying moment Ward thinks that he’s made an unforgivable mistake. She saves him the need of finding an answer though, carries on talking. “You’re so sure I’m Skye? Why don’t you take a look?”

 

 

Ward realizes that his hands are shaking worse than hers were moment before, and he wonders at her ability to do this to him. He waits until the last moment to tear his eyes from hers as he pushes the fabric of her shirt to one side. Relief floods through his body, nearly driving him to his knees as he sees, stark against unblemished skin, the proof he needs. Scars that match his own.

 

 

“Skye.” He hopes that she can hear everything that he’s trying so hard to say. Apologies and regrets and a promise that they can be better.

 

 

“Hey, Ward.” The mask slips and she shrugs as she gives him a watery smile.

 

 

“You’ve gotten good.” It’s nothing more than the truth, but he wishes that she looked happier about it.

 

 

“A compliment, huh?” Her laugh is genuine, but he can hear the hurt and regret that she’s still trying to hide.

 

 

“And a smile.” He’s not surprised when she punches him in the shoulder.

 

 

“I’m pretty sure I still hate you.” She sounds like _her_ now, no false bravado. Just Skye and the truth. The way he remembers.

 

 

“I’m pretty sure I can work with that.” He grins at her as he slides her shirt off her shoulders, letting it fall at their feet. He kisses her again, slowly, more carefully, not wanting to break the fragile understanding between them. But Skye seems to have other ideas, pulls him back towards her until they’re at the foot of his bed. He’s not entirely sure how she manages it, but he finds himself on his back, staring up at her without really knowing how he got there.

 

 

He reaches for her, intending to pull her down on top of him, but she stalls him with a shake of her head, reaching back to unhook her bra. It joins her shirt on the floor and he knows that he’s staring at her like a complete idiot, but he can’t seem to stop. It’s not until he sees her hands moving at her waist that he manages to focus on anything else. She kicks her boots off and pushes her jeans and underwear down in one smooth go, stepping out of them and standing naked in front of him. Ward’s not sure that he remembers how to breathe. He pushes himself up on his elbows and watches as she leans forwards and strips him in a single motion.

 

 

Ward’s cock springs up against his stomach and he doesn’t miss the way that Skye’s eyes narrow appraisingly. The tip of her tongue is just visible between her teeth before her gaze locks with his and she smirks down at him. He can see her eyes drifting downwards and he can feel his dick getting harder as she stares. She licks her lips and leans forwards, sliding her hands over his thighs, and Ward lets out a shuddering breath that he didn’t even realize he was holding.

 

 

“You can still walk away.” He hopes she never knows how much it costs him to say the words.

 

 

“Tried that. Didn’t work.” She sounds satisfied and he wonders if, perhaps, their broken edges were always meant to fit together. “Looks like we’re stuck with each other.”

 

 

“Good.” He hopes that she knows how much it sounds like a promise.

 

 

Skye smiles at him before leaning forwards and running the tip of her tongue across the head of his cock. It’s the last thing he expected, a violation of rule number one, and he has to lock every muscle in his body to stop himself thrusting up into her mouth. Skye chuckles, clearly more than aware of the effect she’s having on him, and slides a hand up, gripping the base of his dick. Her breath is hot and her tongue firm as she sucks him into her mouth, her hands sliding along soft skin. She works him for a moment, and he can hear himself groaning her name every time she swallows him deeper. He twists his hands in the sheets so that he won’t give into temptation and slip them through her hair, guide himself deeper still, but it takes every ounce of his hard-won self-control not to move. She pulls her mouth off his cock with a soft _pop_ and looks straight up at him. It’s an utterly debauched view, his cock hovering near her cheek and Skye staring at him with pupils blown to midnight black with desire. He thinks it might be the most incredible thing he’s ever seen.

 

 

He slowly relaxes one hand, forcing his fist apart, and reaches down to hook loose strands of her behind her ear. He slides his fingers around the back of Skye’s neck and pulls her mouth up to his. She takes her time, slipping her legs onto either side of his, deliberately sliding her cunt, hot and slick, across his achingly hard cock.

 

 

“Fuck.” He basically groans it at her, his eyes sliding closed and head dropping back against the bed. His ears fill with the sound of Skye’s laughter and he gasps as she scrapes her nails down his sides.

 

 

“Sorry, forgot you were ticklish.” She doesn’t sound remotely sorry and he cracks his eyes open to find her grinning unrepentantly at him. He flips them with ease, pinning her hands above her head with one hand as he slips the other down between them. His fingers meet no resistance, just wet heat, as he crooks two fingers up inside her. He circles his thumb against her clit until she’s writhing underneath him, a litany of curses and pleas spilling from her lips.

 

 

“I want you inside me.” It’s the first coherent thing she’s said in minutes and it stops him in his tracks.

 

 

“That makes two of us.” It’s corny as hell and he’s pretty sure that there are about a million things he could have said that wouldn’t have made him feel like as much of an idiot. But Skye’s laugh makes his heart soar, and he lets her pull her hands from his so that she can slide them under his chin, cupping his face as she rolls her eyes at him.

 

 

“Condom.” It’s clearly a command. “Should be easy to find in all this bright light.” She doesn’t sound pissed, but Ward’s fairly sure that he’s going to be paying for this for quite some time. He supposes that there are probably worse ways to spend his time. His fingers grope blindly for the foil packet and when he finds it he rips into it with his teeth. “I’m almost one hundred percent certain that they say you’re not supposed to do that.”

 

 

“Looks cool though, huh?” He grins at her and waves the packet under her nose to demonstrate his proficiency at not damaging the condom inside.

 

 

“Where was _this_ guy two years ago?” Skye’s voice is disbelieving. “Think of all the fun we could have been having. What a waste.” Her tone is teasing and he searches her face for regrets or recriminations. One thing he remembers about Skye, though. Once she’s made her decision she doesn’t bother thinking about what might have been. He’s not sure that’s a good thing, but he’s not going to bother worrying about it now.

 

 

“Guess I should start making up for lost time.”

 

 

“Guess you should start making up for a lot of things.” Her voice is even, but he realizes that maybe she’s changed more than he thought.

 

 

“Skye?” He’s not really sure what he’s asking.

 

 

“Oh my God, Ward. I’m here, I’m naked, and I’m practically begging you to fuck me. I will pinky swear that I’m not going to shoot you, but if you don’t get that condom on and get moving, I am going to punch you in the stomach.” She pulls a face at his shocked expression. “A lot of things have changed, Ward. I promise we’ll talk, but right now, this is what I want.”

 

 

It’s all he needs to hear. He rolls the condom on and drops forward onto his hands, bracketing Skye’s body with his own. He presses his lips to hers, barely a kiss, and pauses, his face inches from hers, his body held carefully above her.

 

 

“I swear, I am doing literally all the work here.” She’s trying to hide it, but he can tell that she’s nervous. He tries to hide his smile, but he’s pretty certain she wouldn’t even notice. She barely pauses for breath before she continues. “I even hunted you down. Your security isn’t bad for someone who has no clue what they’re doing and…”

 

 

“Hey, Skye?” He interrupts her monologue and bumps his nose against hers. “You okay?”

 

 

“Just realizing the enormity of some of my recent decisions.”

 

 

“Freaking out?” He tries to keep his tone light to match hers.

 

 

“A little, yeah.” Her pulse is hammering at her throat, but he’s not in a much better state. He’s just more practiced at hiding it.

 

 

“Me too.” He figures he owes her that much. “Okay?”

 

 

“Okay.”

 

 

He can see the tension leaving her body and her eyes glint with mischief as he feels her heel hook around his lower back, pulling him towards her. She snakes her hand down between them, sliding it around his dick and guiding him into her. He does his best to hold back, to take it slowly, but the feel of her, warm and soft around him, is almost more than he can handle. His hipbones grind against hers as he bottoms out and he pauses for a moment, getting used to the feel of her surrounding him.

 

 

“Grant.” Skye whispers his name, her lips brushing his cheek, and he finally remembers to move. She gasps as he pulls almost all the way out before sinking back into her. He buries his head against her shoulder, murmuring nonsense into her ear, his lips skating erratically against her skin as he moves. It feels ridiculously good, pressure building at the head of his dick with every stroke.

 

 

Time ceases to have any meaning for him, his world consisting solely of him and Skye. He pushes himself up so that he can look at her, head thrown back, neck exposed, tendrils of dark hair sticking to her sweat-damp shoulders and breasts. The sight alone is almost enough to finish him. Then Skye’s eyes flick open and she stares up at him, one hand moving slowly where their bodies are joined. He can feel her hand shifting against his stomach, and his hips stutter as she clenches around his cock.

 

 

“Skye, fuck.” His voice is raw and Skye lifts her head, sliding her tongue into his mouth. He barely knows what he’s doing any more, explosive pressure building at the base of his spine.

 

 

“ _Please_ , Grant.” He feels her fingers sliding around his cock and his hips slam into hers, his spine snapping straight as he buries himself so deep that it’s almost painful. Skye’s back arches off the bed, the fingers of one hand digging into his shoulder hard enough to bruise. He manages two more thrusts before he’s barrelling over the edge behind her, gasping her name, his vision flaring neon white, toes curling as static flares up his spine.

 

 

When he’s finally able to breathe again he finds Skye drawing lazy circles on his back, her body warm against him. He slides out of her, cool air making him feel the loss of her almost instantly. He pulls off the condom, efficiently tying a knot despite his shaking fingers, before throwing it half-heartedly in the direction of the trash. He doesn’t bother watching, knows that it’s going to miss spectacularly. He buries his head against Skye’s neck, curving his body around her, listening to her quiet chuckle.

 

 

“That throw was pathetic.” She drifts her fingers up and down his arm.

 

 

“I figured I’d have to get up to get rid of the next one anyway. Might as well save my strength.” He mumbles it against her skin, realizing that he’s probably not really convincing either of them of his ability to move any time soon.

 

 

“What makes you think I’m not leaving now?” Skye sounds genuinely curious.

 

 

“Figured you’d probably want to meet Kara. Since you pretended to _be_ her.” He feels her stiffen slightly and sucks a gentle kiss against her neck until she relaxes. “You were pretty good at it, actually. Had me fooled.”

 

 

“Grant Ward, this is pretty much the worst pillow talk in the history of ever.” Skye doesn’t sound that annoyed, but she probably has a point. “You’re basically telling me that you thought I was someone else but you went down on me anyway.”

 

 

“In my defence, I only did it because you made me think you were you. And you were. You, I mean.” He’s making his own head spin.

 

 

“That’s a pretty elaborate excuse.” Skye doesn’t sound all that convinced.

 

 

“I had a lot of time to think about it. If it helps at all, I decided I was the worst person on the planet before I figured it out.”

 

 

“Actually, it really does.” Skye turns to face him, her smile beatific before it slowly fades. She opens her mouth as though she’s about to speak, but sighs instead.”

 

 

“Say it.” He figures that they’re going to have this conversation sooner or later. It may as well be now, with both of them stripped bare.

 

 

“Okay.” Skye twists her fingers with his, as though it’ll somehow make any of this easier. She doesn’t flinch though, looks him dead in the eye as she says her piece. “I missed you. And I’m really glad you’re not dead. And I’m sorry I shot you.” She flicks him in the chest as he raises his eyebrows at her, the disbelief he feels clearly written all over his face. “I mean I’m sorry _now_. You totally deserved it at the time. I was really mad at you.”

 

 

“Yeah, you made that pretty clear.” He pulls her tighter against him, not really sure how to go about explaining himself. “I’m sorry I didn’t give you a choice. I know what that’s like and I should have known better.”

 

 

The silence stretches between them for long moments, but Skye doesn’t seem as though she’s in any hurry to move.

 

 

“Not leaving then?” He can hear the hope in his own voice.

 

  
“Seems not. Your bed is super comfortable.” Skye slides her limbs around him, twisting around until she’s virtually lying on top of him. “And I haven’t had a decent pancake in months, so…”

 

 

“Breakfast, huh?” He tries not to sound too delighted.

 

 

“Yeah, or whenever. Not all of us are so rigid about what constitutes a suitable snack, mister six-almonds-and-half-an-apple.” She rolls her eyes at him.

 

 

“I actually hate almonds.” He laughs at the look on Skye’s face.

 

 

“Who _are_ you?” She sounds almost impressed.

 

 

“The real Grant Ward, I guess.”

 

 

“And I totally swore that I was giving up sleeping with strangers this year. Oh well.” Skye shrugs her shoulders before tucking her head under his chin.

 

 

“Speaking of sleeping with strangers, I kind of need you to help me break it to Kara that she’s almost definitely having sex with my little brother.”

 

 

Skye’s laughter fills the room, and he knows that they’re going to be okay.

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
